Page 4 of Cinderella's One-Night Baby

‘It’s just me and Lucas.’ And that’s exactly how it had to stay. It was far too dangerous for Gabrielle to entertain anything else.

‘That must be tough.’

She could have no idea. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Do you get much help?’

‘My mother helps as much as she can—Lucas is spending the weekend with her and my brother, which is great for all of them.’ Even if it meant Gabrielle returning to her apartment and physically hurting at Lucas’s absence.

Closing the boot lid, she patted it gently. ‘We’re all done here.’

Gizmo hadn’t reacted to the spare tyre. The car was clean.

‘We can go?’ Andrés asked.

‘Once you’ve inspected your vehicle for any damage we might have accidentally caused and signed the form for it.’

He immediately crossed the yellow line to join her and looked at his watch.

Unable to resist, she adopted an innocent voice and said, ‘Do you have to be somewhere, sir?’

Andrés snapped his attention back to the officer. It was the barely suppressed humour flitting across the interesting face that had been mostly deadpan throughout the ordeal she’d put him through that brought a short burst of laughter from his mouth. Raising an eyebrow, he said with mock seriousness, ‘I don’t know if you’re aware but we are expected at the palace for the Queen’s birthday party.’

Dark brown eyes widened in mock surprise. ‘You should have mentioned it.’ Then, pillowy lips tugging at the corners, she indicated the stone building that housed the Monte Cleure border staff’s administrative offices. ‘I’ll make it as quick as I can for you. I’ll start on the form. If you find damage, take a photo of it. If there isn’t any, all I’ll need is your signature and... Are you okay, miss?’

It took Andrés a beat to realise she’d turned her focus to Sophia. Following her gaze he saw she’d covered her hand with her mouth.

‘Feel sick,’ she mumbled, doubling over. ‘Bathroom?’

The officer sprang into action and hurried her off into the administrative office. Andrés watched them disappear inside, perplexed that his sister, who’d been perfectly normal up to that point had, without any warning or build-up or hints that anything was wrong, suddenly declared a need to vomit.

Not having the strongest of stomachs when it came to illness, Andrés decided to leave the officer to deal with her, and inspect his car. After close examination, he headed inside and found the officer at a desk behind a computer.

‘No damage,’ he confirmed. ‘How’s Sophia?’

She looked up at him and grimaced. ‘I’ve given her some water but she didn’t want me to stay in the bathroom...’ Her words tailed off as Sophia came in through an internal door and flopped onto a visitor chair.

Running the back of a hand dramatically over her forehead, she said, ‘Andrés, I feel awful. I don’t think I can make it to the party.’

He stared at her with narrowed eyes. His sister had always been a terrible actress and this over-the-top performance reminded him of when she would try to convince their mother she was too ill for school.

‘I was sick twice,’ she insisted into the silence, then lowered her voice and weakened it to add, ‘Can you imagine if I gave the Queen an illness? On her birthday?’

He could laugh at the irony. All day he’d been like a bear with a sore head wishing to be hit by a meteor to get out of having to attend the damned party, but since receiving the excellent news from his lawyer, his mood had done a one-eighty. Now, just as he was looking forward to a night of celebrating his life not being upended after all and partying without any press intrusion, his plus one was bailing on him.

Andrés continued studying Sophia. She didn’t look ill. Not in the slightest. But, he reminded himself, this was a party she’d almost cried when he asked if she wanted to go with him, a party she’d spent two months designing and creating a dress to wear for. Why would she pretend illness for something she’d been so excited about?

With a twinge of guilt for assuming she was faking, he said, ‘I’ll get Rich to collect us.’ Rich was his helicopter pilot. The building of his Monte Cleure apartment had its own helipad. If he’d got Rich to fly them straight here all this hassle would have been avoided.

‘Oh, you must go still.’

He raised both eyebrows at this uncharacteristic selflessness.

‘We’ve travelled all this way,’ she insisted. ‘And it would be rude for you to cancel at such short notice. This is the Queen of Monte Cleure we’re talking about. Her husband’s one of your business partners.’

‘If you don’t come then I will be the only person without a plus one,’ he pointed out. ‘The meet-and-greet part starts in two hours. The women I know who could take your place would never make it in time.’ Well, there were some women who could make it, but they were women who would assume his invitation was just a short step to a marriage proposal.

Sophia’s gaze drifted to the officer who’d been quietly completing the form for them to sign. Andrés followed her gaze then looked back to his sister, his brow creasing in a silent question that was answered with a subtle nod. He looked again at the officer and tried to imagine her in a ball gown. His imagination completely failed him but...

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